


Grapefuit League

by rivlee



Series: Brooklyn Avengers [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Made Families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Spring Training shenanigans ficlets set in the Brooklyn Avengers 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Church of Baseball

**Author's Note:**

> With apologies to Abbott & Costello

“I know that face. It’s the same look of joy you had each September when you found an unopened pack of pencils. I’ve never seen a kid so happy to sharpen shit.”

“Yeah, well, I had to act fast before some jackass stuck the unsharpened ones up his nose to do his best walrus impersonation.”

“Fuck you. I was elementary school comedic genius.”

Steve Rogers shook his head as he started to set up his locker. Spring Training was finally here and Steve was getting used to his second home again. Even though the pitchers and catchers were required to report before any other players, Steve was still the first in the locker room by at least three days. He always liked getting the feel of his clubhouse before it became overcrowded with players, press, and all sorts of other folks. Right now was the quietest Robinson Stadium would be for the next two months. Steve made it a point to start off each new season with this session of peace before the whirlwind began. It gave him the calm he needed to survive the oncoming shitstorm. 

He should’ve expected certain assholes would already be around to damage his calm, even when he left them at home an hour ago.

“You know, you could’ve stayed in bed. I distinctly remember someone mutter this morning that only assholes go to work this early.”

Bucky Barnes leaned against the empty locker to the left of Steve’s. It already had a piece of masking tape claiming it for, _Barnes, James. Take and I will break your kneecap with one of Rogers’ autographed bats_. In smaller letters it said, _call me bucky if you dare_.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky said with a shrug as if it was answer enough. He picked at a loose thread on his shirt sleeve before he continued. “Maybe I like savoring these last few moments of Steve, that jackass who can’t be bothered to shave, despite polite concerns raised about beard burn, before he becomes everyone’s favorite captain and Major League Baseball Commissioner’s all-time favorite player.”

Steve didn’t roll his eyes, but he did snort. “You know that’s bullshit.”

“Well, he doesn’t have _my_ bobble head on his desk or _my_ rookie card encased in bulletproof glass in his office,” Bucky said.

“You have told the man to go fuck himself on numerous occasions,” Steve said.

Bucky laughed, low and sweet the way he only did when truly amused and unguarded. “Yeah, so did you a time or two. It’s just you smile like that good old altar boy from St. Francis and everyone think it’s charming when you say it. I smile and people think I’m out for blood.”

“You usually are,” Steve said as he stowed the last of his gear. The new uniforms hadn’t arrived yet, so his locker still looked depressingly empty. At least with the picture of his mom and a few mementos he always kept with him for luck’s sake, it at least looked like his.

“Please, that’s only my motivation 45% of the time. The rest is to see just how far I can push it before someone loses their composure,” Bucky said.

“Or until someone pushes back,” Steve said.

Bucky’s fingers ran through Steve’s hair before flicking his ear hard. “Only a select few do.”

“Speaking of that merry few, we better mark off his space too.” Steve stood up and reached over Bucky’s head to grab the roll of masking tape from the shelf. He tore off a piece and fished through Bucky’s pockets for the Sharpie he knew was hidden there.

“Scandalous hands you got there, Captain,” Bucky said.

Steve ignored him and quickly jotted down Sam’s name and uniform number before sticking the piece of tape on the locker to his right. Tape was as fancy as things got before temporary nameplates came in. It just made it easier to claim their places now before someone decided to haze the poor kids fighting for a chance to even try out for the Avengers.

He still winced when thinking about last year’s drama; from someone swiping Stark’s standard locker, to the revelation that Luke Cage’s wife crushed on Peter Parker in high school, it was a hell of a spring. How Wilson and LeBeau managed to get that that many pictures of Jessica to paper Parker's entire locker still remained a mystery. Steve was going to try and stay at least five steps ahead of those assholes this year, even if it meant having to arrive extra early each morning to be certain no one’s shower shoes mysteriously took a walk through a field of dog crap overnight.

He loved Spring Training, really. He loved his team, too. He just sometimes wanted to knock all their heads into the wall when shaving cream pranks destroyed someone’s cleats and he had to order mostly grown men to report to the locker room and clean-up their wasteful use of toilet paper because the janitorial staff did not sign up for that bullshit.

Bucky tilted his head as he watched Steve smooth the tape down. “You know, someone would pay thousands of dollars for that little piece of nothing just because your chicken scratch is all over it. I could make bank off our grocery lists.”

“Try it and I really will tell Nat to sell your sheets at auction,” Steve threatened.

“Man, you donate a guy’s shorts to a charity site once and he suspects you for life. What happened with you trying to save the world, Rogers?”

“Let me get through March first,” Steve said. He handed the marker back to Bucky. “Ready to go if you are.”

“Just a sec,” he said. Bucky slipped a cracked, old plastic keychain in the shape of a baseball out of his back pocket. Steve had bought it for him decades ago after a family trip to Cooperstown. It’d become Bucky’s own talisman and no attempts to upgrade it had worked, no matter how very 80s it looked. Bucky carefully placed it on a hook, before he stood back and gave an approving nod to the room. “It’ll do for now.”

Steve hit the lights as they left the locker room, but turned towards the tunnel leading to the dugout and the field. He just wanted one more moment of the empty stadium and the new grass on the field. Even if this was the Grapefruit League, and Florida, and far away from their home field in Brooklyn, it was still a home for them. Steve needed to pay his respects to another season where he was healthy enough to play. Each year meant one less in the future, and he was eternally grateful for the time he had.

"You done communing with the baseball gods?" Bucky asked.

"At least until the new paint's on the field," Steve said. He nudged Bucky as he passed by. "Hey, Who's on First?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Yes, you giant nerd. Yes."


	2. New Kids and New Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton has a few ideas about his new team.

“We need a hook,” Clint Barton said as he jogged through the outfield beside Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Clint had found them the easiest to bond with out of the whole team. It was kind of understandable since Steve Rogers was _Steve Rogers_ ; Thor, Pietro, and Luke all had families; and Parker barely looked old enough to legally drive, and he wasn't _touching_ that bullpen of wonderland madness. Sam and Bucky were close enough to his own age, relatively unattached, and didn’t mind a late night and some beers with friends.

“A hook?” Sam asked. “We’ve got Steve Fucking Rogers.”

“Who is amazing, but he’s kind of like, you know Jesus.”

“Jesus?” Bucky asked. He looked like he was about to bust out laughing. “Trust me, Barton. Aside from having a hidden powder keg of a temper and being too humble, they’re not that similar.”

“No, but he’s like THE guy everyone looks up to throughout the league. Seriously, how many hours a week does he spend fielding questions?”

“Too many,” Sam and Bucky said.

“Exactly. So we need a hook for the whole team. You know, a thing that’ll get us all taking and make us stay in the news for reasons that aren’t related to possible player injuries, or Rhodes becoming a pitcher, or Stark insulting someone.”

“Or you dancing on bar tops?” Bucky asked.

Clint flipped him off. “You were the jackass who said my balance was for shit. I was just defending my honor.”

“New kid’s got a point,” Sam said. “No one’s really going after the Brewers’ record from last season when all they can talk about is that stray dog.”

“Sam, we cannot adopt the pigeons of New York City as our unofficial mascot for the last goddamned time,” Bucky said. He pointed to the dugout. “Don’t make me call Steve out here for a lecture on why that would be a really bad idea.”

“I just think we should appreciate power in numbers,” Sam argued.

“By identifying ourselves as rats with wings? I don’t think so, pal.”

“Maybe you should catch a poor kid’s stuffed toy again so they can remarket the Bucky Bears in Avengers uniforms,” Sam said. 

“Maybe fuck you,” Bucky said.

Clint laughed to himself as they completed the first set of sprints. He liked the guys here, not that his last club was bad, but he needed to get out of Texas. Clint knew he had a reputation for wandering since he never signed those huge contracts that locked him into a place for years. He liked playing in different divisions, living in different cities, hell he’d even switched leagues a few times in his career. He had maybe five good years left if his legs didn’t betray him, and he wanted to play on a team again with a guy like Steve Rogers before either one of them retired. Two-way catchers who were artists at framing pitches, had batting power, and an expert in their field were a rare commodity and Clint liked to watch the best work. He liked it even better when the best were on his team. Besides, he'd already played with the Cardinals when Yadi Molina was coming into his own. It was time to see how the American League's best did it.

“We should play up on the youth of the team and the franchise,” he said. “Hell, we’re playing some college kids in three hours who are older than some of our pitchers. I mean, we all know baseball is a young man’s game anyway, but seriously--we’re still in diapers compared to the Cubbies.”

“Pretty sure they’re in diapers too,” Sam said.

“ _Depends_ actually look like underwear now,” Bucky said. 

“I don’t even want to know _why_ that’s part of your general knowledge,” Sam said. 

The grin on Bucky’s face could only be described as evil. “Don’t worry, Wilson. I’ll save that one for when you can’t escape.”

“Anyway,” Clint said before something emotionally scarring was revealed. “Do you think Cage would let us borrow his kid? We could do like one of those babies and baby animals charity photo shoot things. Everyone loves kids with animals.”

“Yeah, Jessica would never go for that. She said if Luke _ever_ tries to use Danielle for anything PR-related that’s _not_ Take Your Child to Work Day, there would be severe consequences,” Sam said.

Bucky nodded in agreement. “Don’t let Jessica fool you. She’s a sweetheart, but the second it’s something to do with her family? She turns into a mountain lion.”

Clint had only seen pictures of Jessica Jones-Cage so far, but she sounded a little like Kate and Bobbi combined. Clint wasn’t going to push his luck there if he could help it. The back of his head _still_ hurt from the last time Kate had whacked him one with a newspaper.

“Hey, Gossip Girls! If you’re done with your chat, Mrs. White’s called a meeting,” Wade yelled to them.

“Ms. White?” Clint asked.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Since Wade thinks all of Natasha’s exes have mysteriously disappeared, he calls her either the Black Widow, Deadly Woman, or if he’s feeling 1980s-film-nostalgic, Mrs. White.” 

“In the clubhouse with a lead pipe?” Clint joked.

Sam shook his head. “Nah, Natasha’s more with her own bare hands type.”

“It worries me that turns you on,” Bucky said as they all jogged over the baseline. “That’s something you might want to seek help about.”

“You hooked up with her in college,” Sam said.

“ _She_ very much hooked up with _me_ ,” Bucky corrected. “Natasha’s a force of nature like that. I wonder if you have the stones though, Wilson.”

“I got the stones to shove this cleat up your ass,” Sam said.

The two of them went on like that, all the way into the clubhouse, even when it turned out a group of reporters were there to do a round of press. Clint just shook his head and kept to their side as camera and mics were shoved into the faces of Stark, Rogers, Rhodes, and Fury. One question did get Bucky’s attention long enough to shut him up.

“Is it true you’ve signed Thomas Raymond of the White Sox to a six-year-deal?”

Fury turned to the reporter. “Do I look like Phil Coulson to you? Better wait for the press conference, kids. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a game to prepare for.”

Bucky waited for the room to clear out before he grabbed Steve’s arm. “Is it true?” he asked.

Steve Rogers looked as weary as any man could. It was freaky—like seeing your teacher at the grocery store or something. He looked like an average human and not the superhero ball player he was as he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. 

“Yes, Barnes, Phil finally got you Toro to play with again,” he said. “If you two almost accidentally burn anything down in a hotel room for a _third_ time, I will make it my life goal to have Fury bench you both until the next decade. If he misses any of his bullpen practice time because you two just _had_ to go to the newest club in the city, I will give you Disappointed Face Number Nine.”

Sam winced. “That’s a bad one.”

“And finally, if _either_ one of you bets the other to do a bare-ass run across the field during warm-ups here, in New York, or at any ballpark, I will personally record it, put it up on YouTube, and turn you into the Commissioner myself.” Steve’s face was like stone. “Do I make myself clear, James Buchanan Barnes?”

Clint kind of both wanted to find a hole to crawl into hide and stare in shock because Steve Fucking Rogers just said _ass_. Sam looked like he was holding his breath as he waited for the fall out. Bucky looked like someone had given him a lifetime of birthday presents.

“What if we bet someone else—like Barton here?”

Clint swore he could actually hear Steve’s jaw click.

Bucky grinned and stepped forward to kiss Steve’s cheek. “Just kidding, Cap.” He slapped his ass as he walked by. “Come on, boys! We’ve got some dreams to crush. Watch all the young boys cry as their hero and prime star of their homoerotic masturbatory fantasies calls a game for Stark that will break all the college boys’ egos. Honestly, it’s the thing baseball super villain origin stories are made of.”

Steve looked heavenward and asked, “Why me?”

“He’s your best friend and you love him,” Sam said and squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “You’d be lost without him.”

“No, I think you’ve officially replaced him as my best friend,” Steve said. 

“Lies,” Bucky yelled from the doorway.

Yeah, Clint was definitely looking forward to a season with this club. If nothing else, it would never get boring. They still need to play with the mascot angle though. 

Fuck it; the Brewers weren’t the only team who could adopt a dog.


	3. Sam Wilson: Desingated Driver

It was just after one in the morning when Sam got the call. He’d set that particular ringtone within fifteen minutes of meeting the caller. Sam had learned to fear the sounds of _Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’_.

“Barnes?” he asked.

Barnes laughed—no _giggled_ —on the other end. “Help me, Obi-Wan Samnobi.” 

“I’m not your car service, Bucky,” Sam said even as he rolled out of bed. “Why didn’t you call Steve?”

“He needed to sleep,” Bucky said. “Come on, Sam. Be a buddy and drive us home.”

“Us?” Sam asked.

“Toro, Toro, Toro!” Bucky kindly yelled-sung into his ear. 

Sam was getting far too old for this shit. “Where are you two idiots?”

“Um…” Bucky went silent for the bit, the strains of what sounded suspiciously like _Hot For Teacher_ coming down the line. “Barton suggested the place. There’s a pink palm tree outside.”

Barnes had only been on the team for a month and he’d already managed to fuck with Sam’s sleep schedule seven times. They hadn’t even returned to New York. It was going to be a _long_ season.

“Let me guess, there are strippers inside,” Sam said.

“Exotic dancers, Samuel,” Bucky corrected. He made a small sound and sighed. “Steve still has a nicer ass than the guy on stage, but I don’t know if he can bend _that_ low. His knees and back aren’t what they used to be.”

Sam really needed to bond with some better teammates. 

“Your boyfriend’s an asshole,” Sam informed Steve as he dragged Toro and Barnes inside the temporary Barnes-Rogers homestead. “A 100% Grade-A Prime USDA asshole.”

Steve looked far too calm and awake as he took a long sip from his mug and shrugged. “This isn’t exactly new information, Sam.” He pointed to the mess of bodies currently occupying the foyer. “At least you’re missing the final part of the Unholy Trinity.”

“There’s another one?” Sam asked.

“MACEY,” Bucky yelled. “We need to get Macey. Steve, ask Coulson to get Macey for me.”

Steve shook his head, a far too kind smile on his face for two in the morning. “You got Toro. Only one personal acquisition favor every two seasons.”

Bucky frowned and his shoulders slumped.

“Is he pouting?” Sam asked.

Steve nodded. “Toro, Bucky, Jeff Mace, and me we’re all in youth baseball together.”

Sam shuddered as he thought of those three evil bastards and Steve on a team. Their coach must’ve been a saint. “How are you not more fucked up?”

“It always felt nice to be the Good Influence. Besides, someone had to make sure they all got home at the end of each game, after each celebration victory, and then each bar crawl. I’m the beer snob, remember? I never had the urge to join when they were getting wasted on the cheapest draft on tap.”

“We seriously need to find you someone better,” Sam said. “A nice accountant who likes quiet nights at home. Or how about a doctor? The hours are shit, but you’re gone most of the year anyway,” Sam said. He ignored the dark look Bucky sent his way; they all knew those two couldn’t be apart for long. “What about a schoolteacher? A vet? You like animals.”

“The answer’s always going to be him,” Steve said. “Did he puke in your car?”

“Not this time, thank god. It’s a rental.” 

“I’m right here,” Bucky said.

“Shh,” Sam said. “The grown-ups are talking.”

Steve shot Sam a quick smile before he set his mug down on an end table. He crouched down to Bucky’s level. “Bed or bathroom, Buck?” 

“Give Toro the bathroom. I’m not as bad as him. Started pacing myself at the end.” He held his arms out and Steve helped him up. 

“We need to clean you up, first?” Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head and seemed to curl into Steve. “Water. Bed. You?”

“In a bit. We’ve got guests, remember?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He gave Sam a pathetic imitation of a salute. “Thanks for the save, Wilson.”

“I only do any of this for Rogers, you know that.” He nudged Toro with his foot. “I’ll help you get this one up there too.”

“He’s still breathing, right?” Steve asked.

Sam laughed as he picked Toro up and followed Steve up the stairs to the bedroom. They got the two settled, aspirin and bottles of water resting by them, before Steve showed Sam to the guest bedroom.

“You look tired, Sam. Get some rest and I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

“You?” Sam asked as he pulled his shirt off. “Hell no, Steve. You’d put kale in it or some shit.”

“Kale’s good for you,” Steve said. “Besides, it’s an off day tomorrow. Cheat day for me. French toast work?”

“I’ll make the eggs. You always fuck ‘em up.” 

Steve shook his head and laughed. “Thanks, Sam. For everything.”

“Got your back, Cap. Besides I like making Barnes owe me a favor or two, and now Toro’s starting to rack up his debts. All works out for me in the end.” 

“Sweet dreams, Wilson,” Steve said before hitting the light switch and closing the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly gen, but some background pairings in the fics. Cameos from the Marvel multiverse abound.


End file.
